


Kilometre Zero

by Sjukdom



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Angst, Dark, Dark!Jim, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Songfic, blowjob, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4971151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sjukdom/pseuds/Sjukdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every city begins with kilometre zero. Oswald was his kilometre zero. With him had started Jim's life in Gotham, he stood at its beginning, trembling and pleading. Then Jim saw a way ahead of him and knew he wouldn't walk it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kilometre Zero

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, English is not my first language, so feel free to tell me about any mistakes :) The song I used here is Nine Inch Nails' "Closer".

“So, you're the Penguin's bitch now?” said the man in front of him, smiling nastily. His people around laughed dutifully, glancing at Jim, who stood silently, no single muscle of his face moving.

No, thought Jim. Penguin is my bitch.

And smiled.

_You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you  
You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you _

Every city begins with kilometre zero. Without it, there would be no roads, no distances, no ways. Jim thought that human lives also had their kilometre zero, a point, where it all begins. He didn't know, where kilometre zero was in Gotham, but knew exactly, where his own was. Oswald was his kilometre zero. With him had started Jim's life in Gotham, he stood at its beginning, trembling and pleading. Then Jim saw a way ahead of him and knew he wouldn't walk it alone.

Oswald would be limping right beside him.

_Help me I broke apart my insides, help me I’ve got no soul to sell  
Help me the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself_

Their first touch was a push, their first words were “shut up”, said in one single breath. It was rough, it was bloody, it was harsh. So was their first kiss, full of rage and hatred. Jim would gladly punch Oswald in the face, though it was already mutilated enough by Maroni's guys. He couldn't stand the fact that he saved this pathetic manipulator twice, not because he was so fucking fair and brave, but because he was totally, completely obsessed with him.

Jim hated him, hated himself, hated everything that had happened between them. But, seeing Oswald right beside him, mumbling appreciation for saving him, beaten up mercilessly, his face covered with bruises, his lips split, his breathing hard and hoarse, he could stand his frustration no more. Jim already had too many sleepless nights, when he was too aroused to calm down and nap and too tired to jerk off. He laid in his bed, covered in sweat, imagining and imagining, Oswald on his knees in front of him, on his all four, bent over the table, until he was ready to scream in desperation. It was a fever, a disease, eating up his body piece by piece, it was his way, starting with kilometre zero, each step a slow, burning torment, like needles being stuck under his fingernails. Jim tried to be alone on this road, but it hadn't worked. He needed a companion. He needed a cure. He needed torture to stop.

He looked at Oswald, enraged by his muttering and sobbing. Jim himself would prefer a hundred beatings by Maroni's guys than this slow dissolving in biting acid. Oswald's whimpering seemed just unfair. So Jim kissed him, just to shut him up already. Though it was more like the first step into the unknown. But he was not alone.

The kiss was more like a bite, another punch, but with his mouth this time. Jim pressed his lips to Oswald's, so tight their sweat and saliva mixed together, bared his teeth and bit his lower lip, then encircled Oswald's lips with his tongue and tried to shove it inside his mouth. The kiss had a salty taste of blood and pain and fear. Oswald tried to back away, but Jim held him, grabbing his arms and squeezing them roughly. He was shivering and moaning, clenched his teeth tightly and didn't let Jim in. Jim had to get under his shirt and scratch his wet skin with his fingernails, stick them in the white flesh, leaving red marks. Oswald whimpered and gave up, opening his mouth a little, so that Jim could penetrate it with his tongue. Oswald's mouth was hot, his own tongue silky, moving clumsily – obviously, he wasn't an experienced kisser. Jim dug his nails deeper into Oswald's skin, feeling like a thirsty man with glazing flame inside, who found at last a crystal clear waterfall. Step by step, his anger lost its strength and Jim started to enjoy this closeness, this wet, sloppy feeling, the fast beating of his heart. Oswald seemed to feel the difference in his temper and relaxed a little and even tried to kiss him back. Jim felt that he might faint now and jerked back, gulping greedily the night air. 

Oswald was frightened, but Jim felt that this is but his another mask. Secretly, he was very pleased to see such outburst of emotions towards him. Jim felt another sting of anger, but weaker this time. It's hard to hate someone, whom you kissed a moments ago like you had never kissed any of your girlfriends. 

Jim was glad that he could live without this longing for Oswald – now, at least. The medicine brought relief, but not for long. 

What is the kilometre zero for the way a medicine turns into a drug?

_I want to fuck you like an animal_  
I want to feel you from the inside  
I want to fuck you like an animal  
My whole existence is flawed  
You get me closer to god 

They kissed under the pouring Gotham rain and water filled their mouths and nostrils as if they were drowning. Oswald's skin was wet and slippy under Jim's fingers, cold and smooth, covered with goosebumps. When Jim felt that kisses were not enough, he came to Oswald, demanding more. He was ready to force him to it, ready to scare him, but Oswald was willing enough. They kissed again, not on the street this time, not in some rat-inhabitated corner, but in a dry flat, smelling of new furniture and glue. Oswald clung to him, looking rather happy and that irritated Jim. He was not happy, not a bit. He was aroused, his cheeks flushed. He was ashamed of himself and hated this and hated that he hated. Jim wanted to scream at him, to make him feel the same as he felt, but was afraid that he would not get what he wanted. So he just kissed Oswald, putting all his rage and frustration in those kisses, in his fingers, tearing Oswald's shirt open, in his teeth, biting Oswald's neck. Oswald made funny squeaking sounds as Jim kissed and licked his collarbones, swaying a little and holding his head in both hands. His body was white as a shroud and the marks Jim left on it looked like bloodstains on the ivory silk.

Jim pinched his nipples into hard points and grabbed his crotch, feeling that he was as rock-hard as himself. Oswald giggled nervously, when Jim pushed him on the sofa, and tried to wriggle out of his pants. 

“What are we going to do now?” asked he shyly. He fiddled with his boot-laces as if deciding whether to undo them or not. His pants hung on his knees, revealing his underwear, surprisingly meek and old-fashioned. Jim stood in front of him, half-naked, with his boxer-trousers pulled down, his hard cock leaving lucid drops of pre-cum on his stomach. Gotham roared and screamed outside, loud rap pulsated in his ears, like an uneven heartbeat of some modern heathen god. Streetlamps glowed like torches and suddenly Jim felt like he was in the middle of a crowd, a large circle of dim silhouettes, gazing at him with thousand eyes, like silent worshipers, awaiting a sacrifice. Light reflected in Oswald's eyes and Jim felt dizzy. He felt that if he would do what he came for, there would be no going back.

“Don't sit there like a seventeen-years-old maiden, for fuck's sake”, barked Jim at him. Oswald jerked and frowned, then smiled a wide, sweet smile. He bent and started to pull his pants up, agonizingly slowly. The thought struck Jim that Oswald knew who was really in charge here and he felt himself nauseous. Oswald felt power like a beast feels the smell of blood and fear of his prey. He knew that Jim needed him more, than Oswald needed Jim.

No turning back and his kilometre zero stayed far behind him.

“Stop”, said Jim hoarsely and Oswald stopped willingly. He stared at Jim as he approached, not moving, wearing that knowing smile of his. Jim bent and kissed him again desperately, his movements so harsh their teeth knocked against each other. He reached for Oswald's underwear and pulled it down, releasing his cock, pink and slippy with pre-cum, glistening on its head. Oswald breathed in Jim's ear and his breathing was hot and wet. He placed a kiss on Jim's temple and thrust towards his hand. He still behaved unsure and wary as if he had never had something like that before and didn't know exactly what to do. Jim couldn't say, how much of it was natural and how much was played. Maybe, both at once. His cock started to hurt, demanding attention and he drew up, took Oswald's hand in his and put them around it. The music outside grew louder, drums beating fast and furiously. The imaginary crowd around them cheered and screamed in ecstasy.

Oswald wrapped his fingers around Jim's cock bashfully and slid them up to its head, then touched it with his thumb, circling around urethra and playing with foreskin. Jim clenched his teeth, but couldn't draw back a moan. Oswald's movements became firmer and faster as he jerked Jim off with both hands, squeezing his cock tightly and obviously enjoying the process. Jim swayed and grabbed his shoulders to stay standing as he came, the burning feeling filled his stomach and echoed in each of his body cells. Oswald twitched as Jim's come spilled on his face and sat blinking, white thick drops of sperm trickling down his cheeks and chin. Jim tried to catch his breath, agonizing over his state of mind now – was he satisfied? Was it the thing he wanted all this time? 

Was the end of the road still far away?

Oswald twisted under him, trying to draw Jim's attention to him. Jim inhaled deeply and gave him a quick handjob, rough and without much enthusiasm, watching that his come wouldn't soil his hands. Oswald appeared to be very vocal, moaning and sighing louder as he got close to orgasm. After he came, he spread on the sofa with his eyes half-closed, his hair more messy than before. He seemed to be in some kind of blissful coma and Jim was angry again – Oswald behaved so as if this clumsy fuss was the greatest pleasure he experienced in his life. He dressed hastily and left before Oswald opened his eyes. Jim wasn't sure whether he was able to look at him anymore.

But that, of course, was a lie. He was. He would and very soon.

_You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings_  
You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything  
Help me tear down my reason, help me its' your sex I can smell  
Help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else 

Jim was honest. Jim was brave. Jim was good, Jim was this and that. He was tired as fuck of all these tags. He just wanted to be himself, a man, not good and not bad. Just a man, not even a cop. But it was impossible. Oswald wore a mask and Jim soon realized that he wore one, too. But Oswald changed masks easily and his own stuck to his face so hard that ripping it off would be too painful. He often imagined himself doing it, the skin on his face detaching from the flesh with wet sound, blood flowing upon his eyes and world around turning crimson. But then he, at least, could be free, could not keep pretending he was some kind of fucking saint, deprived of all human weaknesses like lust and thirst for violence. Jim soon discovered that he could reveal such shameful thoughts to only one man. He discovered he could be himself only with Oswald. When he realized it, he felt the urge to throw something at the wall, so that it would explode in a rain of shatters.

He did it as soon he came to Oswald's place. Oswald sat in a chair, sipping tea and didn't even get a chance to greet Jim with his nervous smile, as he stormed in the room, grabbed the cup and smashed it upon the floor, pieces of porcelain and drops of hot liquid reaching his face. Jim looked at Oswald, the scar a shatter left on his cheekbone bleeding, as if he asked him mutely, whether he would accept it. Oswald approached him, cooing something soothingly and holding his hands in front of him. Jim waited until he was close enough and then pulled Oswald to him and touched his moving lips with the tip of his tongue. Oswald's lips parted obediently and he even started to undress himself. 

Jim waited until he was fully naked, glancing at his slim small body, all angles and thin white skin with a pattern of tender blue veins here and there. His cock hung between his narrow thighs, half-hard already. 

“What will it be today?” asked Oswald curiously. Jim couldn't help noticing that, even being naked and vulnerable, Oswald didn't seem ashamed or afraid in front of him. So his behavior previously was but a play. Everything seemed as if he was able to predict every Jim's reaction and changed his actions according to this silent knowing. Even his sudden outburst moments ago didn't seem to surprise him. Jim was tired of plays and pretending. He wanted to see the real Oswald. He suspected that this was the goal of this journey along the dark, shadowy road.

He pointed to the floor and Oswald didn't understood at first that Jim wanted him on his knees. He came down and folded his hands upon his hips, thumbs moving nervously. Jim paid his gestures attention no more. Everything was eerie, unreal, imaginary. Sometimes he thought he lived in a dream and sometimes it seemed to him that everything that was before was a dream and now he woke up to face the reality. Oswald sat in front of him on the floor, dressed only in evening shadows, looking like a vision in the fog, but his eyes told that all of it was real. Jim didn't know whether it was for good or not.

He stepped into the arms of fog.

Oswald hugged his hips as he came close and tugged at his belt. Jim helped him to unsnap it and waited as he freed his cock, making soft excited sounds. Was it what he really felt – excitement to have Jim beside him, to touch him, even his most private parts? Jim saw Oswald sliding his palm along his cock, his movements growing harsher with every moment and then removed his hand. Oswald looked at him bottom-up inquiringly and that image burned Jim's retina – his face so near to his hard cock, lips half-opened, eyes big and blue. He took Oswald's head with both hands and drew it nearer to his cock. Oswald's lips trembled – with fear, with lust, with disgust? - and he licked off a drop of pre-cum from it. Jim felt an electric jolt through his whole body and moaned softly, pressing on Oswald's nape. Oswald opened his mouth and took Jim's cock inside, sucking lightly on its head to get the feel of it. Jim pushed the back of his head again, indicating that he wanted him to go on. Oswald pulled the cock in deeper, choked on it and coughed. Jim waited until he recovered, then pressed on, whispering abrupt commands. Oswald's mouth was wet and hot around his cock, his tongue moved rather clumsily and he couldn't swallow the cock properly, but Jim came anyway, quick and violent. 

Oswald got up, Jim's semen trickling down his chin and whispered softly:

“Would you like to show me how to do it right?”

Jim obeyed. His mind was blank at last and that felt incredibly good, better than the recent orgasm.

_I want to fuck you like an animal_  
I want to feel you from the inside  
I want to fuck you like an animal  
My whole existence is flawed  
You get me closer to god 

If you're enraged – go to Oswald. If you feel sad – go to Oswald. If you feel lonely – go to Oswald. If you're afraid – go to Oswald. If you got nothing to do – go to Oswald. With him you will calm down, forget, dissolve in the world of flesh, sweat and sperm. They had their own language, with which they spoke to each other, with their hands, mouths and hips. They needed no audible words. Their bodies spoke for themselves.

Whatever happens – go to Oswald.

It was Jim's way to live a sane life and to keep on.

_Through every forest, above the trees  
Within my stomach, scraped off my knees_

Jim often wondered, who's in charge in this strange relationship. He liked to think that he was the leader, but often, looking at Oswald out of the corner of his eye, he doubted it. He was sure that Oswald had lust for him, but even greater lust – for power. No wonder, if he considered himself as the leader. And he had reasons to think that way. Oswald knew that he barely would be caught and put in the cell again, barely would be beaten up again – you could never harm a man, whose hips you covered with kisses only a night before. Oswald felt absolutely secure, fucking with Jim and Jim didn't know, how to vanish this feeling. Maybe, it was the price for all he got. Everything has its price. Was the cold-blooded killer and psychopath his own price, was he the man Jim could give up all his principles? Jim didn't know that, either. He couldn't be angry all the time now and felt tired usually. Tired and numb. Previous encounters with Oswald were his debauchery, his recent state of mind and soul – his delirium.

And what an alcoholic does, when world around turns gray and body feels so sick he wants to throw up his own living guts? Right, he drinks more and more. To hell all the health and every close person in his life. He just wants to lose himself and go mad.

Jim rarely thought of Barbara then and wasn't surprised, when she left him. He knew she was tired of his explanations about work – Jim didn't believe them himself, when he was saying them. He, somehow, didn't care. When he came to her place to return her the keys, a thought occurred to him. He called Oswald and said to the answerphone that he wanted him to be at Barbara's flat as soon as possible. Jim was sure he would come. Maybe, he considered him to be the leader, but in fact they both were equally addicted here. He just hadn't realized it yet. When Jim left the message, he checked, if Barbara wouldn't suddenly turn up. She was at some fancy party, so she would be absent the whole evening and half the night. Good. And even she would turn up... Jim smiled a weird smile. She would be stunned. And that was good, too. He went to the shop to buy something he would need, when Oswald would arrive. And then waited.

Oswald came in hastily and out of breath, as if he was running the whole way here. Jim led him upstairs, in his and Barbara's bedroom and, when he hesitated in front of their double-bed, kissed Oswald on the neck. Like he tried to steal the rest of his breath away. Jim felt that Oswald was anxious and tense and that filled him with additional pleasure. He thought that he felt the way people satisfied themselves with revenge, not with sex. Well, they were equal, why not rocking the boat a little, why not disturbing the balance? 

Oswald stood and fiddled with his shirt's buttons, obviously not sure whether he should this. Jim helped him out of his shirt and waistcoat, noticing with delight the marks he left on his body. When they both were naked, Jim decided that he should calm Oswald down a little and started to kiss him, while massaging the tense muscles of his shoulders and back. He relaxed and closed his eyes, was even already aroused a little. Jim bit his nipple and reached out for the bottle of lube he bought some time ago, when Oswald was on the way. He felt Oswald's body go numb, when he noticed the bottle.

“Are you afraid?” asked Jim teasingly, but there was also menace in his voice. Oswald looked him in the eyes and Jim saw there that deeply hidden stubbornness and readiness to struggle of his, appearing only when he was cornered. He took the challenge. Was it good to go to bed like to a battlefield? Well, time to let everything be the way it is. 

“A little”, answered Oswald honestly. He laid on his back with knees squeezed tightly. Seeing the smile on Jim's face, he relaxed. 

“Good”, said Jim and squeezed a bit of lube on his hand. He didn't promise to be gentle and careful. That was at least one good thing about their way – they trusted each other without words. As well as one could trust such man as Oswald.

Jim began with a couple of light strokes upon Oswald's cock with sticky lubed fingers and he let out a small breath. Jim thought that he should have prepared him for this more thoroughly, but it was too late. He hoped it would work that way, too. He encircled the tightly clenched opening to Oswald's body and tried to insert a finger inside. It was hard and Oswald moaned, obviously with pain, not with pleasure. Yet.

“Relax, don't push me out”, murmured Jim, stroking his cock with his other hand. Little by little Oswald let him in and Jim found his prostate, making him shiver. He felt wet hot flesh pulsating around his index finger and wanted badly to give the preparations up and fuck him already, but held in. Jim added the second finger, stretching him, squeezed more lube and massaged Oswald's prostate with more intense. Oswald laid in front of him with spread knees, jerking at his every touch and whimpering softly. He held his hands at his chest as if in defense and Jim mused, what would happen if his cronies saw him like that. He decided that everything was ready now, rolled a condom on his cock and bent over Oswald, placing his hands on both sides of his head. Oswald breathed in deeply and nodded, not trying to hide his gaze. It was late evening now and setting sun colored the walls crimson red.

It was not so pleasant at first – his arse was so tight it nearly hurt to be inside. Oswald shivered, clenching his teeth and panting as Jim moved deeper slowly. But it anyway was something, something wrong and wonderful because of it, to fuck Oswald for the first time in the bed that he shared with Barbara for so many years. Oswald's nails dug harder in his skin, but it was nothing to compare with the feeling of being inside him. Inside he burnt like hell's fire. Isn't the hell the place where every junkie goes?

Jim thrust, harder and harder. Oswald whimpered with his every movement, but didn't complain. When an orgasm rushed through Jim's body, he was surprised – why it had ended so quickly? He felt like he was able to go on all night. He shivered slightly, having no desire to leave Oswald's body. He wanted to feel that tight grip on his cock again, that heat, to hear wet sounds of flesh meeting the flesh.

They laid breathless and sweaty, not saying a single word to each other. Oswald's semen was drying up on his stomach. Jim licked it off, to his own surprise.

Addicted. Junkie's life begins with a party, where he sniffs a bit of acrid white powder. That party is his kilometre zero for the way straight into grave.

Where would Oswald and he go?

_I drink the honey inside your hive  
You are the reason I stay alive_

Jim smiled and said something, not knowing exactly what. He's mine, I'm his, thought he. We are both kilometre zero for each other. We are both on this road. And we both will meet its end in time. 


End file.
